My favorite author is the late Robert Anson Heinlein
(1907-1988), the dean of American science fiction writers.
He is best known for his “Stranger In A Strange Land,” the
epic about an earthman who is raised by Martians and sent to earth to discover our
lifestyles. It became a classic among hippies and other counter-culture
residents of the 1960s. At many universities, “Stranger” is required reading
for freshman English. But
the bulk of his body of work was putting smart people into difficult futuristic
situations and showing how they coped and thrived.
Anyhow, I was in the Hawthorne store of Portland’s famous
Powell’s Book Store over the weekend and I came across a collection of six of
his short stories originally printed in 1961. It was an ancient paperback with
aged and delicate paper that was browned and brittle. But it was also a
treasure of short stories I had never read and well worth the $4.95 they
wanted, despite the original 75-cents cover price.
One of the stories, “The Man Who Travelled In Elephants,”
affected me in a way I had not anticipated. Only 14 pages, it left me in tears and
my nerves were raw and frayed.
It is the story of John, a travelling salesman and his wife,
Martha. When they first married, they loved to travel together servicing John’s
sales route. The road to travel together all over the country and the road
became their way of life. It is sort of like my recent travels.
They spent their lives together exploring and enjoying this
lifestyle and gathering a collection of imaginary friends and one real dog
named Bindlestiff. When John retired, the couple chose to stay on the road, but
they couldn’t just become vagabonds. They chose to travel in elephants and
spent the rest of Martha’s years doing “research” all over the country. They
visited every fair, exposition and other community events they could find. They
loved parades!
As the story begins, John is alone and missing both Martha
and Bindlestiff. He no longer drives, but takes a bus as he continues the
lifestyle, imagining he is sharing these moments with his beloved wife and pet.
He is on the bus to “The All American Exposition.” The bus has a minor crash,
but nobody is hurt and another bus quickly takes the passengers to the
exposition.
When they reach their destination, John beholds wonders from
all the places he has ever visited. He encounters a dog, a dead ringer for
Bindlestiff, who spends the story running back and forth between John and a
woman who he can’t quite see as his glasses were broken in the bus accident.
By now, you and readers know that John is clearly in heaven
and he will be reunited with his beloved Martha. This is an amazing concept for
Heinlien who loathed the beliefs of organized religions.
John gets to the “Big Parade” and it displays the best from
every town he has ever visited. At the end of the parade, there is a grand
carriage being hauled by elephants. The parade’s grand marshal comes up to him
on horseback and asks if he is “the man who travels in elephants?” John is then
proclaimed the king of the parade and joins Martha and Bindlestiff in the
carriage in a never-ending parade.
Those who know me probably don’t need to read any further to
know how and why this story ripped my nerves to shreds. Someone told me the day
I got the book that I still had raw nerves about the Ex. There is no doubt that
my nerves are burning and bleeding after reading this story. I no longer have a
“Martha.” She has found her new “John” and I really hope she is happy.
The story’s lifestyle is something that was my dream – and I
had once hoped it was her’s. As I search for a new “Martha,” I can’t help but
think what might have been, and I weep.
Yet I also wonder if I find a heaven like Heinlien’s. If God
is so infinite, couldn’t he give each one of us something uniquely our own? Tis
a consummation devoutly to be wished, or is it? Could it also be a form of
Hell?
Be careful what you wish for, you might get it.
